The Lily of the Willow World
by ruffruffren
Summary: Set in Ancient Japan inside the lascivious embrace of the Yoshiwara, Aoba is a high-class male prostitute, selling his charms beneath the silvery gaze of the moon. Ren is the nobleman whose pathway in life is paved by the golden light of the sun who forever searches for that which was lost. When the two roads through life cross over everything changes An unlikely love blossoms
1. Chapter 1

The sky was a brilliant blue that day.

Not a cloud in sight, the sun shone sleepily down from the sky accompanied by a gentle summer breeze. Below the children of the village came out to play, their joyous laughter filling the air. It was a perfect, hazy summer's day.

'No! Come back!' A young boy cried as his spinning top spun away from him. It swirled in a blurred motion as it crept away from him further and further before coming to an abrupt halt against a sandaled foot. It fell lifeless to the ground with a tiny clank. The child had been chasing the short distance after it but it stopped now, as his honey coloured eyes stared in a daze at the unknown shoe. The foot that occupied it wriggled its toes and the boy giggled, looking up in wonder to see the face. It was a man, who had a small pair of glasses perched on the tip of his nose through which he examined the child, his glasses looking expensive as did his finely woven clothing. He carried with him a cane, perhaps more for decoration than necessity. With a small exhale the man stooped down and retrieved the spinning top, the smile fading from the child's face as the toy was pulled from his grasp.

'Is this yours, little boy?' The man asked in a deep and refined voice. 'What a fine piece of craftsmanship.' He exclaimed, scrutinising the delicate red and black triangle motif of the toy with interest. It was true; the toy was a souvenir, a gift from the boy's father, a treasure stolen from a faraway land.

The boy opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed his plump little lips again. He was not supposed to speak to strangers. Taking a step back the boy looked away, down the dirt pathway outside his home, seeing the other children playing amongst themselves. He should join them, he knew, but the lure of his prized possession rooted him in place.

The man chuckled, the tune catching the boy's attention once more as did his words. 'I should give this back to you, then.'

The boy's face lit up with delight at the prospect of his toy returned. His stubby fingers reached out for the spinning top as it was passed back to him, but as they grasped the solidity of the wood everything changed. The innocence of his youth was blacked out by the rough Hessian sack, smothered in an instant like a candle. His cry of surprise was drowned out by the other children, his existence from the village extinguished in a moment.

The sky was a brilliant blue that day.

Angry footsteps stormed across the tatami flooring like rolling thunder and were followed by a booming voice that grew louder and more irritated with each step.

'Aoba!' It bellowed, making no attempt to hide its frustration. It did not go unnoticed as the boy whose name was being shouted across the house scrambled out of his futon, the pleasant dream he had been drifting through now a distant memory. Aoba's futon had other ideas, however, and clung to him, entangling him in its embrace like a reluctant lover in the early morning that refusing to let him go. When he was finally freed it was too late. The door to his room slid open with a resounding thud and there was Toue, master of the house, his cane jutting accusingly into the room. In a desperate last bid for forgiveness Aoba dropped to his knees, his forehead pressed firmly to the ground, the perfect symbol of subservience. The room filled with the sickly scent of mint.

'Aoba!' Toue growled like a baited animal before the kill. 'How many times must we go through this before you learn your lesson?'

'I sincerely apologise, Toue-sama!' Aoba's voice hit the tatami and bounced back to him in a heated breath, propelled by the force of his conviction. He spoke the words so often he wondered as the seconds ticked silently by between them if they still held any sense of meaning. The room fell heavy with an ominous silence, pierced only by the sound of the hustle and bustle of the late afternoon trade as it wandered through the window, carried along by the wind. Aoba listened to the sound of other lives playing out around him, oblivious to his own existence, unaware that he held his breath in anticipation of the punishment to come. He could only wonder what method of correction Toue would try, the cold water and reduction of clientèle proving ineffective in mending Aoba's ways. With fewer customers Aoba's debt only increased, another year added to his already lengthy term of service. With eight long years stretched out before him Aoba's youthful ignorance reasoned another year made little difference. His freedom was like a memory, once remembered but now forgotten, remaining forever just out of reach.

Toue sighed, lowering his cane. The tip kissed the ground with a small noise and Aoba released the breath he was holding. 'Aoba-kun,' Toue's voice softened and Aoba shuddered with fear. 'You have missed breakfast and will therefore not eat this evening. You have one hour before you are in the window, so please prepare yourself thoroughly.' Toue paused before adding, 'And Aoba-kun, make yourself useful to me this evening.' With that the door slid shut and Aoba sat back on his heels with another shaky breath. The window.

Renamed 'the cage' by those subjected to its confines, the window was a vermilion latticed prison at the front of the Moon Flower's establishment. Tantalising potential customers with a glimpse of the house's finest merchandise, it presented the rare blossoms within like flowers in a vase as they bloomed beneath the milky caress of the moon. The cage was particularly lucrative during the warmer months of the year when passing trade was abundant. However, in the cold months of Autumn and Winter trade dwindled as crops began to fail, leaving the farmer no money to pay the landowner and the landowner no money to pay the whore.

There was nothing for Aoba to do but tighten his jaw, grabbing his wooden wash basket and hurrying to the bathhouse. All around him a flurry of kimonos whirled around in a spectrum of colours like petals blown into life by a mischievous wind as the other boys readied themselves for the long night ahead, their lips flapping and tongues sharp as they spoke of the trials of the night before. Clutching the round, wooden basket that housed his cloth Aoba lowered his head, weaving in and out of the half-naked limbs that littered the hallway until he found sanctuary in the quiet enclosure of the bathhouse. The water was still warm and with it rinsing the sleep from his wary body, Aoba climbed into the tub, the sound of the water echoing off the stone walls. Reclining into the tepid, liquid embrace Aoba closed his eyes, luxuriating in a rare moment all of his own. In here the world could not find him, he was alone in the sacred sanctity of his own mind. It was the only time he had to himself, to think his own thoughts and speak his own words, casting off the candied promises whispered in the darkness of the night from a one-night lover.

Aoba's routine was simple. He washed away the frenzied touch of the men of yesterday, cleaning his pale white skin anew for the man of today, before finally relinquishing his time alone and retreating back to his room. His success at the Moon Flower had quickly earned him his own private room, though it was still small. The little window he had in the room overlooked the busy street below where the tradesmen called out their wares, the scent of freshly cooked fish and other treats wafting through the air reminding Aoba of his empty stomach. It grumbled noisily at him, complaining incoherently of its misery. With only thirty minutes left to get dressed and ready, however, Aoba could not waste a precious moment more. Slipping onto the red cushion before his lacquer dressing table, Aoba hastily applied the thick white paint to his face. His skin was already as white as snow yet the paste helped even out his tone, and made the striking crimson of his painted lips even more inviting. With that done, Aoba then accentuated his wide, golden eyes with charcoal, elongating their sensuous shape. But Aoba's most attractive feature, his unique selling point, was undoubtedly his unusual hair colour. The striking shade ensured he received the most attention, and Aoba owed much of his success not to his charms but to the colour of his hair. Sweeping the azure locks from his shoulders he deftly coaxed his silken tresses into the _shimada mage_ style, slicking the front with wax until it lay smooth atop his head. Picking out a large, curved mother of pearl comb he wedged it into place, the crowning piece of his attire, and accentuated its luxurious beauty with two long ivory pins either side.

The final touch was his kimono. The crimson fabric was heavy, the golden silk brocade held together by an aubergine obi, the folds of fabric cascading from his waist to just above the ground.

No sooner had he finished dressing for the night did he hear a familiar, softly spoken voice outside his room. Smiling, he permitted entry and turned from the mirror to greet his adoptive brother. It was commonplace to adopt a 'brother' inside the houses; the older brother acted as a guide to the younger, a helping hand in an otherwise brutal and cut-throat society of boys all competing for the same affections.

'Sei.' Aoba said fondly as the frail figure of his older brother appeared kneeling. He shuffled into the room, bringing a small tray containing a bowl of rice and a cup of lightly steaming tea with him.

'I thought you may be hungry.' Sei said with a knowing smile as he entered the room. The two seated themselves down on the cushions, the tray between them. Ravenous, Aoba took up the chopsticks and began carefully scooping the rice into his mouth, mumbling his gratitude as he went. 'Aoba, you must work hard at this. Toue-sama is not a bad Master, he takes great care of us all.'

Aoba swallowed the mouthful of rice in his mouth with a dubious look upon his face. He was used to Sei's conversations about Toue. The age gap between him and Sei was only a year, yet Sei had been working under Toue for almost the full eight years of his contract. Though he was due to depart in the next few years there was an unmistakeable glimmer of sadness in his dark, black eyes. Aoba could not understand Sei's appreciation for the man, and placing the chopsticks down over the emptied bowl, he sighed heavily beneath the weight of his resolve. He would do it for Sei. Not for Toue.

'For you, Sei. If it eases the pain from your face then I will work harder for you, as my brother.'

'Thank you, Aoba.' Collecting the tray Sei stood again with a smile playing at his lips, 'If anyone asks...'

'...I haven't seen you today.' Aoba finished and the two shared a knowing smile.

'You are working in the window tonight.' Sei said conversationally.

'Ah, yes. I overslept...' Aoba looked a little sheepish, but Sei's benevolent expression did not alter.

'I know. Word travels fast, Aoba. You should know that by now.' Moving with a grace that Aoba could only aspire to possess, Sei approached the door. His ebony hair contrasted with the paleness of his skin, his sorrowful eyes seeming to pierce Aoba's soul as they gazed at him. 'Take care of yourself, it will be cold tonight.'


	2. Chapter 2

The Yoshiwara District was segregated from the rest of the town by a large moat, the only way in – or out – via an elaborate and ornate bridge. The intricate carvings were of the highest craftsmanship and Ren took a moment to appreciate it as he strolled across the bridge with his companion, running his long fingers over the smooth red paint. Ahead he could already see the orange glow of the lanterns illuminating the darkness of the night, their light warm and inviting on this cold autumn evening. As a cold shiver ran its bony finger down Ren's spine he pulled his _hanten_ closer to his body.

'Cold?' Koujaku asked, seeing Ren's actions.

'It is a late autumn evening, Koujaku. The chill of the night is to be expected since we are outside.' Ren replied, ignoring his companion's chuckle.

'Ah, we will surely find our way into the arms of a sweet lady soon enough.'

Ren knotted his brows. In all the years of their long friendship Ren had watched Koujaku develop steadily into the womaniser he was today. His cliché approach and extreme flattery surprisingly had a high success rate that often left those within earshot baffled. Even Ren scratched his head in wonder at Koujaku's ability to capture the heart of the fairer sex; his dark, handsome features and toned muscles were renowned for bringing many a refined, married woman to her ruin. He carried himself with unwavering confidence, his head held high and often a sensuous smile playing upon his lips. His hair was black and long, pulled over one shoulder and held in place by a crimson pin, and covered half of his face behind an ebony veil. As Ren glanced at him he was struck by the poignancy of such a simple thing as Koujaku's hairstyle, thinking of the shameful past it disguised.

'Don't look so nervous.' Koujaku said with a smile, slipping his arm around Ren's shoulders. They were similar in height, Koujaku an inch or so taller, but Ren's build was slimmer and less refined. In contrast Ren's skin was pale, his hair shorter and wavy, the colour that of the ocean in the dead of night.

'I am not nervous.' Ren replied flatly. 'What is there for me to feel nervous about?'

Koujaku's expression dropped slightly as he studied Ren's stoic face, never quite certain if Ren was too naïve to understand the world around him or just of a simple mind. 'Never mind. Look, there's the gate.'

At the other end of the bridge, as Koujaku pointed out, a tall and intimidating gate loomed. The sanguine and gilt painted wood rose high into the night sky, an imposing gateway that whispered promises of limitless fantasy from within its depths. Through its wide open doors a stream of humanity poured, coming and going, a ceaseless river of people. Ren had never seen such a collection of people, his saffron coloured eyes widening in disbelief as he watched men dressed in the robes of the peasant rubbing shoulders with the merchant or nobleman. There was a curious mixture here; in the murky waters of the pleasure district no distinction was made of one's class. The most desirable women were often from farming families, sitting in the cages alongside a daughter of higher birth, two women of very different backgrounds sharing the very same miserable fate. The coin of the poor man weighed the same as that of the rich.

As Ren and Koujaku blended into the throng of people and passed beneath the gate Ren felt as though he stepped from reality and into a living fantasy. Illuminated by the lanterns pink cherry blossom decorations hung, swaying in the breeze. The buildings that lined the wide main road appeared as though they were squashed into place, every spare inch of earth filled to capacity. Seeming to burst from within, women draped themselves over the second story balconies, calling out in their high pitched whines as their kimonos slipped from curved shoulders. Debauchery and lecherous intent stained the purity of Ren's mind as the two were swept along by the current of people.

'I do not think this is a good place, Koujaku.'

'Ah...' Koujaku scratched the back of his head uncomfortably.

Ren let out a little sigh, drowned out by the noise around them. 'There is no changing you.' A small smile played at the corners of his lips.

'You would not want me any other way.'

'I did not realise I had a choice in the matter.' Ren countered.

'You didn't.' Koujaku grinned, enjoying the back and forth banter between them. 'Anyway, this is my stop.' Koujaku's footsteps ground to a halt outside one of the many establishments. Ren looked up at it curiously, wondering what made this particular one different from the others. As his vision roamed back down he saw Koujaku shifting his weight from side to side, a slight flush across his cheeks.

'Who is she?' Ren asked.

'Her name is Mikoto. Tonight is the night, though, Ren. I can feel it.' Koujaku looked like a child receiving a present, balling his hands into fists as he spoke with passion.

'Save your words for her.' Ren interrupted, not interested in hearing the confession for himself. He had heard it a thousand and one times before now and they would surely be no different today. Koujaku left Ren with a pat on the back, looking more than a little apologetic as he entered the building. With no intention of going in himself, Ren decided to explore the vicinity in search of a place to stay the night – alone.

The Yoshiwara sprawled across a wider area than Ren had imagined. From the main, wide pathway several smaller avenues broke off, lit up dimly by the warm lanterns of the awaiting establishments that lined the streets. Sticking to the main road so as not to lose himself in the maze of debauchery, Ren walked quickly through the crowds, noticing that occasionally on either side of the street a small group of people formed, standing perfectly still for moments at time before moving slowly on. When his curiosity would allow him to ignore this no further he stopped at the next gathering he saw. Standing cautiously at the back of the large group Ren followed their gaze to a latticed window, from which a golden light poured, casting the men's shadows long behind them. Peering between the crimson bars Ren could see a colourful collection of women sitting like porcelain dolls, their soft and round faces cast in an eternally melancholic expression. He counted five of them in the relatively small space, their floral kimono blooming like a garden in summer, a cascade of silken flowers frozen in time. The way they sat perfectly still was unnerving but equally captivating, Ren's feet shuffling him ever closer as he gazed at them in wonder. And that was when he saw her.

The bustling, lively world filled with the jovial laughter of merchants and nobles began to fade away. The mouth-watering scent of freshly cooked meats now failed to catch his attention and the men pushing lightly on his shoulders, they as enthralled as he, no longer mattered. The other four women behind the wooden bars paled into insignificance, their existence forgotten. It was though only one person mattered, all else erased, and she sat there in the centre of the window. Ren's world ground to a halt, refusing to spin. The four seasons were postponed, the weather waited for another day, the sun and the moon finally met in the sky.

Like the others, her kimono was red silk brocade. The flowers were golden, shimmering in the flickering glow of the lantern, making them appear to flutter as though caught upon a summer breeze. Pulled around her slender waist was a deep purple obi, plain in design but just as beautiful, poured like water onto the floor in a wide segment, spilling over her gently bent knees – the outline of which was just visible beneath the fabric. From there Ren's eyes roamed upwards, drinking like a man at an oasis the subtle curve of her body through the folds of her kimono, tracing up the slender groove of her neck. Slowly he took in the plumpness of her cardinal red lips, like small petals resting gently atop one another beneath the small of her delicate nose. Her rosied pink cheeks were rounded and smooth as was her jawline, leading to her downcast eyes. He stood, dumbfounded, overcome by the odd desire for those eyes to glance at him. He wanted to see into them, to discover what golden wonder they held captive. _Look at me_, he thought suddenly, an urgent plea to the heavens above. He needed those eyes to look at him, to see him, to _recognise_ he was there. It was peculiar, and Ren admitted to himself, that this strange need was from seemingly nowhere. Perhaps, he mused, a playful spirit had come about to cause mischief in the world of humans. There surely was no other explanation for these unfamiliar feelings.

How much time passed was beyond Ren's comprehension.

'There you are!'

Hearing the familiar voice shattered the illusion, the spell that held him trapped releasing him from its obsessive grasp. He felt himself jolt back into his own body, not aware his soul had tried to escape him. Turning, he saw Koujaku standing there.

'Koujaku...' Ren whispered, finding his voice at last. Seeing a movement out the corner of his eye Ren looked back into the window, just in time to see the beautiful woman stand – she was quite small and slim of build, even beneath the bulky layers Ren could tell – the sliding door at the back opening for her to pass through. She moved like a petal upon the water, drifting effortlessly along the current of life. And then she was gone.

Finding himself once more, swallowing the feeling of an opportunity missed, Ren began to question Koujaku.

'I thought you were absent for the evening?'

'Ah...' Koujaku looked guilty again, once more scratching the back of his head and shuffling nervously upon his feet. '...Mikoto and I had a little argument.'

Ren could not suppress the smile that claimed his lips. Though he tried to mask it behind his hand his voice still carried with it the mirth of his amusement. 'What did you do?'

'Don't ask.'

'Though I would normally oblige your request, I am afraid this time I cannot.'

'Ren...'

'It is too tempting. Pray tell, what did you possibly do to upset her?'

'Let's find a place to stay and you can buy me a drink.'

'In order to obtain the information, I have to buy you a drink?' Ren asked, walking now alongside his friend back the way they had come.

'Better get me drunk first.'

'I would say that was expensive information, but since you are a lightweight it should be somewhat easy to achieve.'

'H-Hey!' Koujaku looked a little insulted, and as they passed the various lights of the buildings, Ren thought he could almost make out a faint red mark on Koujaku's cheek, looking strangely like that of a hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Aoba surveyed the crowd with veiled eyes. The familiar faces were all gathered as usual, their gazes filled with wonder and longing, knowing that they would never have coin enough to purchase his services. _Perhaps next week's crop will yield better_, Aoba amused himself, fantasizing their thoughts as he looked over their grubby faces. It was easy to tell the farmer from the nobleman, try as they all might to blend seamlessly together. Even when the layers of clothing between them were shed like autumn leaves, Aoba could tell by the feel of their hands, rough or smooth, whether or not they worked the land or worked their money. He had developed a preference for the workers, if he was honest; the rough texture of their fingers across his smooth skin made him shudder with delight. There was something about the unadulterated way in which they used his body that excited him. Shame, it was, for they were rarely able to afford his services.

There were new faces mixed in with the familiar, one expression shared by a thousand unique faces. All except for one.

How long he stood there Aoba could not be sure, but once noticed, he could not ignore him further. His skin was deathly pale and contrasted harshly with the dark shadow of his wavy, chin length hair, his broad shoulders hunched as though he carried the weight of the world upon them. He was undeniably handsome, though, and Aoba felt his body lean forward like a flower chasing the sun.

_Look at me._

It was more a prayer than a thought.

_Look at me. _

His mind sent the words out in hope that their silent plea would reach the ears of the man whose attention he so desperately craved. Another moment passed and still he was overlooked, the bud of his yearning wilting inside his chest.

'Aoba!' A harsh voice pulled him from his tangled vine of thoughts. 'A customer has come for you.'

'Yes, yes. I'm coming.' Aoba sighed. Gathering himself together he stood and shuffled from the cage, not twenty minutes passed since he came out. His long evening of work had officially begun, he thought miserably as he made his way into the reception. The assistant who called him stood beside a middle aged gentleman, and all three bowed at varying levels as Aoba joined the group.

'Aoba, this is Masatane-san. He will be staying the entire night -so be generous to him!'

'Of course.' Aoba said, bowing again. The fee for an entire night was far from cheap, and the added cost of the sake he would consume added handsomely. He was not an unattractive man, either; his hair was thinning on top with flecks of grey streaking through the ebony locks but that appealed to Aoba more than anything. The crows feet around his gentle eyes appeared now as he smiled, his thinning lips pulling back in a warm gesture. He was slightly taller, well dressed and decently proportioned. It was rare for Aoba to have the luxury of a youthful and attractive customer with plenty of money, so he learned to quickly take whoever could afford him.

'This way, Masatane-san.' Aoba gestured, politely guiding his companion up the staircase to the second floor bedrooms. The evening was already in full flow; the soft sighs of the boys as they were taken by their lusty customers drifted through the sliding doors as Aoba led Masatane to their room for the night. An assistant who had prepared the room was kneeling by the doorway and he slid it back without a glance at them, only to close it soundlessly behind them before scurrying off to his next duty.

The room was identical to every other in the building used for this purpose. Bright shades of red adorned the walls contrasting with the pale tatami mats. Shadows flickered across the walls as the one lit lantern provided the room a soft glow, the flame within dancing to and fro.

A decorative screen stood to one side and a scroll hung on the wall at the head of the futon which was placed in the centre of the room. At the foot of the futon a dark wood tray carried upon its smooth surface a single cup and a bottle of warmed sake, and another tray was positioned next to the pillows with a small bowl containing a sweet smelling gel.

'Masatane-san,' Aoba began as he shuffled into the room after his guest. He seated himself down on the futon near the tray and went about pouring a cup. 'Thank you for choosing me this evening.' Aoba presented the cup and, once Masatane had taken it from him, pressed his forehead down onto the futon in a bow. Straightening up he added, 'What would Masatane-san like tonight?'

'Drink with me.' Masatane said, holding out his empty cup. Aoba refilled it and gently passed it back with a polite smile.

'Masatane-san, would you be... trying to get me drunk?'

'What's a little sip going to do?' He pressed.

Aoba held the cup out, remaining firm. He was not allowed to eat or drink during work, especially not alcohol. 'Oh, you!' Aoba hid his mouth coyly behind his sleeve, his arm still outstretched. 'You _are _trying to get me drunk!'

At long last the customer seemed to give in, taking the cup from Aoba's hand. With an inward sigh of relief, he relaxed again. If a customer became too pushy it made for an awkward atmosphere and, most of the time, the customer understood the few boundaries that were in place. But Masatane was no such customer, and no sooner was the cup in his grasp did he try again to persuade Aoba to drink from it. Dipping his fingers into the warm fluid he pressed them to Aoba's lips.

'Drink.' He said smoothly, pushing the two fingers beyond the soft, plump lips.

Immediately the sharp bitterness of the alcohol soaked itself over Aoba's tongue as he lapped at the fingers in his mouth. Such a long time had passed since he last tasted the intoxicating haze of alcohol that he instantly hungered for more. When the cup was offered to him fully he took it and, in the foolish of his youth, tipped it down the back of his throat. It burned a blazing trail into his mostly empty belly, setting a fire raging in his blood.

'See? No harm done.' The customer sat back, chuckling to himself. 'Let's see what I paid for, then.'

'Oh? And what have you paid for, Masatane-san?' Aoba said coyly, rising somewhat unsteadily to his feet. The alcohol in his veins made him light headed and giddy, his legs wobbling beneath his weight as he stood.

The customer smirked at his remark. His eyes, however, were glued to Aoba's body and he watched in fascination as the obi pulled away, the fabric slipping from Aoba's shoulders and cascading to the floor around his ankles. Sinking to his knees, he crawled back onto the futon, bringing the half empty bottle of sake with him.

'Lay down here.' The customer patted the futon beside him and Aoba obeyed, laying down his slender frame and looking shyly up at his guest. 'Open your mouth.' Doing as he was told, Aoba's lips parted and in came the warm liquid, flowing over his tongue and down his throat. He barely had time to swallow it all.

_Too much!_ Aoba's barely sober mind thought in a haze of panic. His alcohol tolerance was low at best, the small amount he had earlier already clouding his judgement. He wanted to struggle, to move his head away, but as he tried, the customer's hand gently brought his lips back, his fingers cupping Aoba's chin, forcing him to drink all that was given to him.

_This is bad,_ Aoba thought in the final moments before his mind gave way. _I must try to stay in control...but a little fun shouldn't hurt once in awhile._

As the flow ceased he heard the customer toss the empty bottle into the room, finished with. Half a bottle of sake now swam inside Aoba's system like murky water, blurring his vision and heating his flesh.

A moment later he felt Masatane roll onto him, fumbling clumsily inside his own clothes to free his hardened member; spurned on by the vision of Aoba's pale form released from beneath the heavy fabrics. Aoba lay there, swimming in a sea of intoxication, barely registering in his mind as the customer pulled his legs apart, barely stopping to slick his cock with the lavender gel before thrusting hard into Aoba's body.

'Ah...!' Aoba groaned as he felt himself entered, his legs pushed up and against his chest, the weight of the customer leaning heavily upon him as he was pushed mercilessly into Each jerky movement made Aoba's head throb as the sake took hold.

As Masatane pounded mercilessly away at his flesh, Aoba's mind began to wander as it often did, carried away by his drunkenness.

The exertion on his body and the warmth in the room made his skin slick with traces of sweat, tiny beads forming on his forehead and across his chest. The pressure of the customer's body over his own made it difficult to breathe and his breath fell in heavy pants of snatched air upon each outward movement, undoubtedly giving the customer the impression of pleasure. Masatane would never check, however. A customer's interest would not travel that far. Aoba's cock was not even hard, and he could no longer recall the last time he had felt the pleasure of release. Instead all he felt was the discomfort of the customer's body pressing against him, his cock burrowed inside him like a small animal, digging its way into his depths.

Laying back haphazardly on the soft futon, Aoba stared at the ceiling with his legs to the heavens. This was life, he told himself. There were those who were owned and those that owned. Perhaps if he lived kindly enough he would eventually find himself in the other position, a rich merchant with stubby little fingers and a rounded belly, spending his days counting money and his nights spending it on whores. Aoba tried to imagine himself that way and before he could stop it a giggle of melodious laughter trickled from his lips.

'Eh...?'

The harsh rocking stopped. Aoba's hands flew to cover his mouth and he gazed in shock up at the customer, who glowered down at him.

'I-I'm so sorry...!'

'Did you laugh at me?'

'I was not laughing at you, Masatane-san!' Even as Aoba said it, he could not mask the smile that crept into his voice. 'I was merely thinking how I would appear if I were a fat merchant such as yourself and...' Not realising he had said too much already, Aoba continued to blurt words out until common sense prevailed, shining through the darkness of his drunken state like sunshine through the clouds.

By now the damage was already done, however. The customer quickly pulled himself out, sitting back to look Aoba over. 'You were thinking such things while I was with you? Look, you aren't even hard! What a sham of an oiran you are! I demand my money back!'

'Please, hold on.' Aoba scrambled to his knees but it was too late. The customer was irate, and his wrinkled face turned red with anger. The handsomeness Aoba thought he had seen earlier was long gone and another giggle escaped him at the seriousness of his appearance now.

The situation was serious, yet the gravity of it failed to hold Aoba's spirits down. He found it amusing, slipping into his clothes with uncoordinated movements, and trying his best not to laugh as the customer opened the sliding door, still naked, and bellowing down the hallway.

'I want my money returned!'

In a matter of seconds, the plainly dressed assistant from earlier reappeared, bowing low as he went and ushered the customer back into the room.

'I will fetch the owner immediately. Please wait a moment.' Sliding the door closed again he disappeared once more, returning as promised with the owner, Toue.

The sight of him quickly helped Aoba to sober a little. 'Toue-sama!' Aoba laughed, throwing his arms out as he lay back on the futon. 'Have you come for some as well?'

Toue was far better at concealing his anger than the customer had been. He came into the room, quietly closed the door and stood looming gloomily over Aoba.

'What appears to be the problem?' Toue asked, his voice cold and calculating, bowing deeply towards the customer as he spoke.

A stubby finger pointed accusingly at Aoba. 'This has been a very unprofessional evening. For the coin I paid, I expected better than a common whore! He is drunk. More than that, he is unable to conduct himself in the appropriate manner when servicing a customer.'

'Aoba.' Toue spat the name sharply. Aoba sat up a little straighter, his arms dropping, a smile still playing at his lips. 'You certainly appear to be in a disgraceful state. Masatane-san, please follow me to reception and I will rectify this situation at once.'

The customer grunted, pulling his clothes back into place aa he followed Toue out. As Aoba watched them leave, he knew his ordeal for the night was far from over, but the implications behind his behaviour failed to dawn on him this hour.

'That should sober you up. In the morning you can apologise to myself and Shingen-san for dragging us out here to deliver your punishment.'

Aoba groaned. His arms ached, tied together and suspended above his head to the sturdy branch of the tree. The rope was pulled taught so that Aoba's feet barely touched the ground and forced him to balance precariously on the tips of his toes. And that was the least of his worries.

Groaning into the soft cloth that wrapped over his tongue, Aoba hung his head, shivering as the cold air bit through the flimsy nightgown he was forced to wear prior to being marched into the courtyard. It stuck to his body, damp and moist, clinging to his frame like a second skin. As he tried to retreat, the fabric followed him like a shadow, leaving him no escape.

'Shingen-san, fetch another bucket of water. I cannot risk this happening again.'

'Yes, Toue-sama.'

Aoba shivered and his teeth bit hard into the cotton strip tied around his head, muffling his protests effectively. The pins and ornaments from his hair were gone and it hung lifelessly across his face, dripping with the icy water. Three buckets of cold water poured over his head combined with the freshness of the autumn night air sobered him quickly enough. He cursed his weakness to alcohol vehemently, vowing never again to allow himself to stoop so low.

'Ugh...'

'Not yet, Aoba.' Toue was close, his hand turning Aoba easily around to face the bark of the tree. 'You crossed a very, very big line tonight. Not only did you disgrace yourself,' Toue paused, and in the torturous moment that followed, Aoba felt the sharp thwack of his cane on the back of his thighs. The force of the blow sent Aoba's body stumbling forward, the creaking rope stopping him from falling to his knees. Tears stung his eyes as the sharp ache radiated out across his body. 'You also disgraced this house.' A second blow. The sound of Toue's cane whistled in the air and the second strike bit into his flesh, piercing the wet nightgown as it stuck to his thighs, the welts burning furiously. 'You also cost me a small fortune to repair the damage.' With that came the third and final blow, knocking the strength clean from Aoba's body. He slumped against the rope, hanging limply and swaying like a single leaf on a barren tree, holding on with all it had left.

'Toue-sama.' Shingen had returned with the water. Aoba heard it sloshing around in the wooden confines of the bucket.

'Do it. Make sure you get his thighs.'

'Yes.'

'Ah!' Aoba cried out, the warmth of his tears spilling over his reddened cheeks as the water splashed against the freshly formed welts. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands in a futile attempt to distract from the pain he felt below, his mind swirling and barely able to focus on anything.

'Thank you, Shingen-san. Please, let us leave him here to think over what it is he has done.' Pulling him back around, Aoba felt Toue's fingers wrap over his mouth, squeezing painfully and yanking his head up, forcing him to look at him. He was an ageing man, his hair trimmed close to his head and thinning, the colour of youth long since faded to a silvery grey. His face was long and marked with deep ridges, not unlike a cliff-side weathered down by years of erosion. He was not a tall man either but what he lacked in height he more than made up for in presence. What made Aoba shiver now, more than the cold, were Toue's eyes. Two black beads, as dead as a snakes, pierced into Aoba's soul and pinned him down as his thin lips delivered a low spoken, but clear warning.

'I have no further interest in educating you, Aoba. If you do anything to this degree again, rest assured the punishment will be much, much worse. Is that clear?'

Before Aoba could respond, however, the creeping darkness of sleep came over him like night the night sky chasing the dawn away, and his eyes closed, the menacing face before him fading to nothingness.


	4. Chapter 4

'Word around town is they're going cheap.'

'Cheap? I heard the cost was the same but they would be taking multiple customers at once.'

'That's what I heard, too.'

'You know what that means though, don't you?'

'What?'

'It's obvious, isn't it? If we all chip in together, we could afford it.'

'Imagine the look on that pretty face.'

Koujaku winced, turning his ears away from the lecherous conversation happening at the next table over. The group of young men spoke loudly, their voices growing ever rowdier as the sake filled their bellies and their conversation fuelled their lusts. It was fairly standard banter for men who came out drinking, but Koujaku set himself above that; he believed women were precious pearls, rare and unique, to be cherished and loved and respected regardless of their status or role in life. From the lowest prostitute to the mother of the emperor, they all deserved respect.

'I've thought about stuffing that boy for a long time now. Sitting all high and mighty in his birdcage, looking down at us poorer men. We could bring him down a peg or two, show him what a real man feels like.'

The small cup that had been making its way to Koujaku's lips stopped midway, the action suspended, frozen like a river in the midst of winter. He could feel the warm moistness of the steam rising up from the smooth surface of the sake, but did not make another move to drink it. His quiet evening drink alone was no more, for he could not turn away from the men's conversation for another moment.

Placing his cup down, he rose to his feet and carefully approached the group with a subtle inclination of his head. 'Good evening, gentlemen.' He spoke smoothly and smiled faintly. 'I could not help but overhear your rather zealous conversation just now.'

The men, a group of five, exchanged looks. They looked rather more like a pack of vultures than civilised human beings.

'What's it to you?' One of them asked after a moment's hesitation.

'Well, this... boy you speak of. Where might I find such a creature?' Koujaku asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. The practice of taking a boy for a lover was common, but not something Koujaku had ever considered for himself.

'...Why should we tell you?' Another man of the group suddenly seemed to find his tongue.

'I am an interested patron.' Reaching inside his kimono, Koujaku procured a small pouch of coins and held it within his palm as if to weigh its value. 'A very interested patron.'

The men passed a look between them once more. Group mentality, Koujaku thought bitterly. Perhaps combined, all five of them would have a single brain cell between them to speak of. 'Moon Flower, on West Street.'

'His name?'

Silence. Annoyed, Koujaku flipped another coin onto the table and asked again.

'Aoba.'

'And when is this... due to happen?'

'Tonight.'

'You have been most informative. Thank you for your time.' Koujaku opened the pouch and flipped a handful of coins onto the table. Like the vermin they were, the men's grubby hands swooped down and scooped up every last piece. Koujaku ignored them, having gleaned the information he required from their filthy mouths, and calmly left the tavern in search of the Moon Flower.

It was not difficult to find, which was surprising considering the labyrinthine streets and myriad of establishments. For Koujaku, navigation was easy, especially since he had frequented the majority of the businesses in the area already. Yet the Moon Flower was not one he had ever expected to find himself outside. As he arrived he noticed the lanterns inside were already lit, the pretty boys positioned in the window and the evening in full flow. Perhaps he was too late to do anything, he thought as he passed through the door and into the warmth beyond.

'Welcome!' A loud chorus greeted him in harmony as several assistants heralded his arrival.

'Ah-'

'What can we do for you this evening?' One of them asked. 'We have only the very best boys here.'

'I'm... looking for one in particular.' Koujaku stumbled over his words. Why was he so nervous? He had done this a thousand and one times before, why did this feel so different?

''I see, I see! Did you know his name?'

'Yes. It's... Ao...Ao...'

'Aoba?'

'Yes, that's it!'

'I'm terribly sorry, but Aoba is unavailable right now.' The assistant looked dismayed as his eyes roamed over the book that recorded all the appointments and who was assigned where. It also held a description of the patron, so any who tried to cheat their bills or caused mischief would promptly find himself with nowhere to go. Koujaku knew it well – it had stopped his activities in several other districts by now.

As the information reached his ears his heart began to sink. He was too late, then.

'H-He'll be available again in about two hours. The gentlemen who have booked him for this evening are yet to arrive but...'

'How much?'

'I'm sorry?'

'How much have they paid?'

'That's...'

'I will double it.' Koujaku reached inside to the little money pouch and dropped it onto the desk with a loud clank as the coins inside chinked together with a satisfying sound. 'There should be enough in there to cover it, surely?'

The attendant reached out his hand and speculatively opened the pouch, peering inside, his eyes widening with shock. He stuttered over his next words, pocketing the money and hastily making his way up the stairs while his torrent of mumbles continued. A few minutes passed in which Koujaku found himself almost losing his conviction. He shuffled awkwardly, shifting the weight of his body from foot to foot, not able to stand still and wait. His hands fumbled around; idle at his waist, on his hip, folded. No position seemed comfortable and the longer he was left alone, the more he felt like the other guests who loitered around drinking before selecting a partner for the night, were looking at him.

What was he doing, anyway?

He didn't even know what Aoba looked like. He was acting purely on a whim... a sense of justice, his overriding need to protect the weak, at any cost. It was an aspect of his personality that frequently landed him in trouble, more often than not with women who mistook his actions for something more meaningful. Unable to resist a woman offering herself to him, Koujaku was known as a notorious womaniser in little time at all. Though men envied him and women wanted him, it was a label that followed him everywhere like a shadow, casting darkness over his potential to connect with another human being. It left him out in the cold. And now all he could do to satisfy the tender need for love within him was to frequent the brothels of the pleasure districts, where love bloomed like the lilies of the night, wilting and vanishing by the first rays of light.

'If I could just take a name?' The attendant's voice called and he quickly reappeared behind the counter, breaking Koujaku's thoughts.

'Koujaku.'

'Very well. Aoba is available to see you right away. Please, follow Shingen-san to the room. Enjoy your stay!' The attendant bowed low and Koujaku returned the gesture gratefully. This was it. Koujaku's train of thought had failed to progress beyond this point and now as he stood dumbly outside the allotted room, the sweet scent of Jasmine encircling his senses, he knew not what to do.

'Aoba, your guest has arrived.'

'Please come in.'

'Enjoy your evening.' The attendant knelt down, opened the door, and slid it closed as Koujaku crossed the threshold. As he entered the room he had already decided he was here to ask questions; he wanted to know why such an expensive and high class Oiran would reduce himself to the antics of a low class brothel. That was his only intention as he stepped into the room.

'Good evening. I took the liberty of a more relaxed greeting, I hope it does not displease you?'

'Ah-' Koujaku's mouth opened and from it a torrent of mumbles fell incoherently, his tongue tying itself in knots as he forgot how to speak. On the vermilion futon lay a slender figure, kimono the colour of cherry blossoms sprawled around with a creamy leg playfully piercing the fabric. He was propped up by his shoulders, blue locks piled high atop his head with strands falling to caress the naked tops of his shoulders. He looked dishevelled, but perfectly arranged at the same time. The effect created was tantalising, and Koujaku's mouth dried in an instant as he stood awkwardly by the doorway, forgetting himself.

Never in all his life had a woman taken his voice from him, left him weak at the knees and trembling with such a forceful desire to possess.

The boy – impossibly a boy, Koujaku thought – giggled, gesturing with a slender wrist to the tray containing a bottle of sake. 'Please, relax. I am...'

'Aoba.'

'Yes. Do I get to know your name, or shall we play a game in which I must guess? Perhaps, for every time I guess wrong, you must take another sip of sake.'

'...My name is Koujaku. It is a pleasure to meet you.' Koujaku bowed low, more than he should have.

'The pleasure is all mine. Come, sit with me – or do you plan on leaving through that door before you have sampled your purchase?'

'Right.' Koujaku moved stiffly into the room, sitting himself down on the edge of the futon and grabbing the cup of sake. Aoba moved swiftly, taking up the bottle and pouring out the steaming liquid.

'Koujaku-san, do you often only speak one word sentences? Don't tell me, you are a man of mystery who likes to keep those around him guessing?'

Koujaku, his normally composed self dissolving fast at Aoba's flirtatiousness, downed the cup of sake and immediately held his cup out for another, which was then quickly refilled. His earlier intentions were soon forgotten. His money paid for Aoba's time, he reasoned, and it would be such a waste if he did not indulge him just a little. Though male lovers amongst the young was not uncommon, it was something Koujaku had not considered for himself, filling his days and nights with the company of many a beautiful woman instead. Yet there was something alluring about the way Aoba moved, the way he spoke.

Koujaku was going to need all the help he could get if he was to maintain his reputation as a lady-killer.

'I'm sorry. I was just a little surprised by your beauty.' Koujaku said honestly, the second cup of sake wetting his appetite. But even as he spoke he began to wonder if it sounded corny.

Moving into a kneeling position, the light pink kimono slipping dangerously low on his already exposed shoulders, Aoba effectively closed the gap between them. Koujaku could feel it; the air between them prickled with heat, his skin rippling in goosebumps. This was beyond ridiculous. Koujaku's nervousness was perplexing to him; he had slain many a woman's pure heart in his ventures, never finding the one that matched his own. He was a bird, flying from nest to nest, never finding the mate that matched his song in perfect harmony. Yet something about the way Aoba's eyes sparkled in the dim candlelight made him rethink that. For the first time since his early years did Koujaku begin to feel a soothing hand upon him, chasing away the guilt and frustration of his past.

'My beauty, is it? If I had a coin for every time a man said that... I would have left this place a very rich man a long time ago.' Aoba retorted, adding, 'Do you have nothing original to add?'

'Oh? And you have not used the same coy words and mannerisms to seduce countless men before now?'

Aoba's lips seemed to pout as he thought of a comeback, and Koujaku found his hand moving of its own accord to cup his chin, pulling his doll-like face up to his own. The reddened texture of Aoba's lips were so inviting, pulling him in...

'Are you truly male?' Koujaku whispered foolishly. He could not believe that such delicate features belonged to a man.

'You want to find out?'

With a low noise in his throat akin to a groan, Koujaku poured a fair amount of the remaining sake into his mouth, swallowing it down and letting the burning alcohol soak into his blood stream. That done, he took Aoba's slender shoulders in both his hands and forcefully pushed him down onto the soft embrace of the futon.

His fingers made short work of the light blue obi, tugging it off the tiny waist with practised ease, his long slender fingers finding their way between the folds and diving beneath to the smooth skin below.

Aoba's flat, pale chest rose heavily with each breath, his hands laying vulnerably either side of his head. Koujaku took a moment to admire the view, running a hand across the expanse to tease a taut nipple.

'Ah-' Aoba sighed, his back arching slightly to the sensation. So... men were just as sensitive here, too? Experimentally Koujaku began to twist and pull on Aoba's nipple, watching as his face contorted with an anguished pleasure. Fascinated, like a child with a new toy, Koujaku tortured Aoba's other nipple, delighting in the way his body moved, squirming with the pleasure.

'Koujaku-san!' Aoba whined, bringing his slender leg up and wrapping it over Koujaku's hips, pulling them close.

'Sorry... I've not done this before.'

'Then allow me to.'

To Koujaku's surprise, Aoba used the leg on his hip as anchorage to switch their positions. Before he could think Koujaku found himself beneath Aoba, whose kimono now fell seductively about his waist. His small hands weaved their way inside Koujaku's clothes, seeking out his erection and pulling it free.

'As my body works a little differently from a woman's, you have to prepare.' Koujaku watched with wide eyes as Aoba leaned over him, thrusting his fingers into a pot of lightly coloured gel, and brought them to Koujaku's cock. Their eyes locked onto each other, Aoba slowly dragged the two fingers up and down his twitching shaft.

'Nhn...!' Koujaku sucked a breath from between clenched lips as the warmed gel lay thickly over him, coating his skin in a slippery wet texture. It felt so incredibly good, dull bolts of electricity running up and down his spine with each stroke.

'First you are prepared like this. And then me.' Aoba continued, rolling back into the space between Koujaku's legs, his feet sitting either side of his chest. He parted the hem of his kimono fully, and with his legs spread wide, Koujaku could see _everything_.

The shock of what he saw only aroused him further, however, his cock twitching almost violently in response. His cheeks were redder than he had ever felt them and a gentle prickling heat settling over his half-naked body. He stared, wide-eyed and curious as Aoba played at his own entrance with the same two fingers, the gel dripping slowly from them messily as he circled one finger around and around in a hypnotic gesture.

'….Ngh... Then... when you have coated the outside well enough, you...'Aoba gasped between his words as a single finger vanished inside the tight space. '...Move the finger inside... spreading... like this...'

Koujaku watched as Aoba's cock grew harder in response to the stimulus, and found himself wanting to touch it, to feel it against his own skin. He wanted to know how hot it would feel, how smooth, how the translucent liquid that seeped from the tip would taste on his tongue. Yet he was paralysed as he watched the illicit display play out before him, a show just for his eyes.

'Hah... after awhile, you can... fit another one.' Aoba said, his cheeks flushed as a second finger joined the first. By now his cock was fully hard as he worked the two fingers in and out, occasionally stopping to spread the walls open, inviting Koujaku to the most erotic sight he had ever had the pleasure of viewing.

It was dizzying and intoxicating.

'Aoba...' he whispered hoarsely. He wanted to watch, to see it all. 'T-touch...'

'You want me... to touch here?' Aoba asked, bringing his free hand to wrap around his cock. He squeezed it, then dragged his palm up and down the length. 'Like... mhm... this?'

'Yes.' Koujaku's mind was broken. He could not think; the world around him melted away and all that remained was Aoba, pleasuring himself with the most delicate mewls he would ever hear. Each one was different from the last, barely audible, dropping from his lips like stolen pearls.

'Koujaku-san... I can't hold it...' Aoba's fingers moved fiercely in and out of him, his palm pumping up and down his cock and filling the room with wet sounds. He was enjoying it so much; the feeling of being watched, and Koujaku could tell, mesmerised as he was, that this was not a common thing.

'Ah...!' Aoba's back was now a perfect bow, his nipples jutting lewdly out from his chest. Beads of sweat trickled down his cheek and glistened at his collarbone, his eyes locked with Koujaku's in a silent entreaty for release.

But Koujaku was not finished yet. Taking Aoba's hand from his cock he carefully pulled him back over to him, positioning Aoba's hips above his own cock and slowly bringing him down. Koujaku grunted as the tightness enveloped him, the searing heat surrounding him all around, consuming him. It was beyond anything he had ever experienced before, his member slipping inch after inch until he was completely taken in by Aoba.

'Ah...Koujaku-san,' Aoba moaned, resting his hands on Koujaku's shoulders and slowly lifting himself off, then sinking his hips back down, riding him. 'You feel.. good.'

'Aoba...' Koujaku gasped, gripping Aoba's hips as he guided him up and down his length. It was amazing; the sensations were different to a woman's body, the feel of Aoba's frame in his arms missing the curve of hips, but it was far from unpleasant. Much the opposite. It was addictive, in fact. Each upwards motion left Koujaku eagerly anticipating the next downward strike, longing to forever feel the heat around him, the pulse of being deep inside another driving him wild.

Soon enough the air in his lungs was pulled in and out in short breathes, his face tilted upwards to watch as Aoba's expression changed, his brows furrowing and lips parting as he let out gentle moans of ecstasy.

'You feel so... hot.' Koujaku whispered, taking Aoba's cock into his hand and stroking it in rhythm with their movement. Aoba jerked, his body arching once more as he leaned into the caress, moving himself vigorously as he thrust his hips into the hand that pleasured him. Koujaku squeezed him tight, marvelling at the feel of another man's member within his grasp. It felt different and yet the same as his own, slightly smaller in size and twitching forcefully with every firm stroke.

'Koujaku-san don't... tease me.' Aoba panted, gripping his shoulders as he rode him hard. 'I'm going to...come...!'

'Ah...Can I come inside you?' Koujaku asked, feeling the heat in his cheeks increase as he asked.

'Yes...!' Aoba's body twisted, his mouth wide open as a cry of pleasure unravelled from his lips, his fingers gripping Koujaku painfully as his climax overtook him, carried onto greater heights as he felt Koujaku release inside him a moment later.

Koujaku's belly became sticky and moist with Aoba's come, the ribbons of creamy white scattered up his torso. Exhausted, Aoba's body slumped onto him, both breathing hard and both satiated.

Falling back with Aoba upon his chest, Koujaku heaved a sigh of contentment, closing his eyes and feeling sleepy as his climax soaked into his body.

'...Aoba?'

'Mhm?' Aoba sounded just as sleepy, nuzzling against Koujaku's chest.

'Can I see you again?'


	5. Chapter 5

Aoba made a noise in the back of his throat as he stalked down the narrow corridor. Beside him was Sei, smiling peacefully as they talked. Aoba always regarded Sei as appearing serene, unaffected by his unfortunate circumstances and instead rising above them. It was a trait Aoba often wished to adopt himself, but his hot tempered personality held him back much as it did right now.

'I could do it if I tried.' Aoba mumbled more to himself than Sei, ignoring the light chuckle his brother gave him. 'I'm serious!'

'I am sure you could do anything you wished,' Sei said, lowering the hand that covered his mirthful lips, 'However, it is not for me to decide the role you play but the customer, and he has insisted that after last time you are not to hold an instrument in his presence ever again.' Sei's humour was barely veiled from Aoba's ears.

Aoba remembered the incident well enough – it was not his proudest moment. Though he blamed the issue on the instrument itself, Aoba knew deep down it was not his greatest skill. Shamisen playing was an ability he sorely crossed off his list of talents, he instead prided himself on his ability to pluck the strings of his customers. Therein lay his real skill.

'He's a foreigner. He just doesn't understand that's how it's meant to sound.' Aoba said.

'Yes, Aoba.' Sei replied.

Wiping the sour look from his face, Aoba accompanied Sei to the designated room for the evening. It wasn't difficult to know which one held the twenty five rowdy men, the group of men could be heard laughing from quite the distance. Shooting a look between them Aoba and Sei braced themselves as the door slid open, their arrival met with a momentary silence before the drunken cheers roared into the air.

'Sei!' One of the men called, patting the empty cushion beside him enthusiastically. 'I saved a place for you here.'

'You mean to say someone else was made an attempt at your affections?' Sei replied smoothly, mocking a pained expression as if his heart had been broken. In a swift motion without hesitation he took the cushion, immediately taking up the bottle of sake and refilled his customer's cup. Aoba admired how easily Sei shifted into work; it was as though the 'real' him remained suspended at the doorway, waiting patiently for the night to finish and for Sei to return to his true self. Aoba was not so different himself, catching glimpse of a lonely looking customer and sliding in next to him.

'More sake?' Aoba asked politely, pulling back his sleeve as he reached for the cup.

'No, thank you.' The customer replied somewhat curtly, not looking away from the light entertainment that played at the other end of the room. It was an elaborate party with dancing girls twirling at the front, their colourful costumes and faces a little garish for Aoba's taste.

Placing the bottle back down and not to be disheartened, Aoba tried to strike up a conversation instead. 'Have you been to the Moon Flower before?'

'No.'

Another short answer.

Glancing sideways to Sei, Aoba saw his brother deep in conversation with two men, his attention split between them. They were sharing amusing stories, judging by the way Sei's lips turned up in a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with joy as a ripple of laughter trickled from between his painted lips. He made it seem so easy, so simple. So why did Aoba have to have the difficult ones?

Not deterred, he carried on regardless. 'Ah, I see. I hope you are enjoying yourself so far.'

'It's nothing special.'

Studying the man who was overly keen on saying anything beyond the bare minimum, Aoba realised where the fault lay. The strawberry blond hair, cut short and a little messy complete with the delicate pale contours of his skin, Aoba realised the man was not of Japanese origin. He was a foreigner. His lack of polite language and reluctance to engage in conversation, therefore, was most likely due to the restriction of his understanding of the language. Feeling a slight sense of relief, Aoba adjusted himself to conversation the man may be more familiar with hearing.

'I'll tell you my name. I'm-'

'Does it matter who you are? You all look the same to me.'

Aoba's voice died on his lips, wilting like a flower dried in the blazing heat of the desert sun. His resolution just a moment before faded away, replaced by an anger that boiled in his veins. The man's Japanese was perfectly spoken, there was no mistaking it. He was just plain rude.

'I'm sorry you feel that way.' Aoba said curtly, trying his utmost to keep the bitterness from entering his voice. Even when faced with adversity, it was his duty to remain polite to customers – especially if he did not wish to end up punished again so soon. Swallowing his disdain like a glass of lemon juice, Aoba tried a little more. 'Perhaps you have just to meet someone who takes your interest.'

'Is that your way of suggesting it's meant to be you?' For the first time in their rather abrasive conversation did the man turn to face Aoba. His eyes were a startling green.

Something flickered across his face, an emotion Aoba could not identify, shadowing his features briefly before the steel mask of indifference returned.

'If you dislike the establishment and the inhabitants, why did you come here?' Aoba asked.

'I did not choose to be here. My father,' The man inclined his head to the gentleman at the top of the table, 'is responsible for throwing this... nonsense. It's his way of celebrating closing a deal.'

Aoba glanced over in the direction the man gestured. 'He's... your father?'

'Yes.'

Aoba swallowed the lump in his throat and turned his attention back. 'I see.' As much as Aoba longed to divulge the intricacies of this man's father's sexual preferences, it would be unprofessional and somewhat damaging. 'Congratulations to you and your family on your success.'

'Thank you, I guess.'

'… Do you intend to spend the entire evening being a sour faced lemon? Or would you like to try and enjoy yourself?' Aoba's sudden sharpness caught the customer off guard and he inwardly smiled. 'Your father has paid a lot of money for this, the least you could do is try to enjoy yourself.' Then, lowering his voice, he added, 'Do you honestly think this is how I would like to spend my evening? Talking to a strange smelling man who won't even introduce himself?'

A smile appeared on the man's thin lips and he lowered his gaze for a moment, thinking over Aoba's words before he responded. 'Noiz.'

'I'm sorry?' Aoba's brows furrowed at the unusual sound that came from the man.

'My name is Noiz.'

'Well, then, Noiz-san. My name is Aoba. It is a pleasure to meet you.'

'You don't mean that.'

'Not right now, no.'

'My father says you are awful at shamisen.'

Aoba's eyes flickered to Sei, who had clearly heard the remark and was doing his best to appear otherwise occupied. 'Does he, now?'

'He praises your ability to dance, though. I would like to see that.'

'Would you really.' Aoba said bitterly, his jaw tightening. Had news of his shamisen playing really reached outside Japan?

To Aoba's annoyance, Noiz glanced over his head and to his apparent father. He spewed several angry sounding noises from his mouth, to which his father promptly replied just as angrily. After a brief exchange the mischievous grin was back on Noiz's lips and Aoba felt a sense of dread as the green eyes met with his once more.

'It would be my pleasure to watch you dance.'

'Oh, yes! Aoba-san, please!'

'Yes, yes! Aoba-san must dance for us now!'

Several of the men stopped their conversation upon hearing that and cheered Aoba on. Their enthusiasm was pleasant, but this was not what Aoba was here for. Seeing Sei's barely contained humour stirred his blood even more, and he found himself issuing a challenge from across the table.

'If I am to dance, then Sei-san is to accompany me on shamisen.'

'Aoba-san,' Sei said, clearly shocked by the hidden challenge in Aoba's tone, 'I do not feel my skill on shamisen matches yours at dancing.'

'Do not be modest, Sei-san.' Aoba slowly rose to his feet. 'Together.'

'Very well. Together.' Sei politely excused himself and stood, following Aoba to the space designated as the stage.

The dancers and musicians from earlier had already left a few minutes before, leaving the space clear for Aoba and Sei to take to.

It was part of their profession to be ready for anything, and so without a word spoken between them they each knew what the other was going to do. As Sei's fingers began to pluck the strings of the shamisen, Aoba's body moved in a fluid motion to the music, the ornaments within his hair jingling as he shuffled left and right, using the long ornate sleeves of his kimono to enhance the scene he performed. The theme of his performance was that of a young maiden, tricked by her lover into ending her life for him when he does not follow after her.

The room fell into silent appreciation, the men gathered, not even raising their cups to drink from as Aoba's movements captivated them all, their eyes watching every twist and turn of his slender frame as he acted out the girl's final, tragic moments, folded up in his sleeves like a caterpillar in the moments before it becomes a beautiful butterfly. Perfectly still he knelt as Sei faded out his notes until not a sound nor movement broke the stillness that settled over the large room, the men's rowdy nature subdued by the beauty of the scene they watched.

When a few seconds passed, Aoba rose from his position to the sound of applause, the sudden noise seemingly much louder and shattering the gentleness that had fallen over them. He bowed low and quietly resumed his position next to Noiz as Sei also returned to his companions. The conversation soon picked up as though nothing had transpired, only now they spoke enthusiastically of the Aoba and Sei.

'That was beautiful.' Noiz said. 'I want to see how your body moves beneath those clothes.'

Aoba stuttered, his cheeks flushing despite himself beneath the painted mask that adorned his face, 'In Japan we are a little less forward than that, even if you are in a house of ill-repute.'

'How should I say it then?'

'...You...' Aoba found himself struggling for words, 'You quietly whisper to me that you would like to see me later. And I will then decide if I want to see you.'

Noiz leaned in close, and the unusual scent of his clothes drifted across Aoba's senses. It was neither particularly pleasant or unpleasant, just different. 'I would like to see you later.' Noiz whispered quietly, his breath hot against Aoba's ear.

'I will think about it.'

The night air was refreshing against Aoba's skin, chasing away the encroaching heat of the guest's room. With so many people in one space the temperature had steadily risen even despite the opening of the veranda doors, and Aoba found himself grateful that Noiz accepted his invitation for a walk around the impressive gardens of the Moon Flower.

They walked slowly together beneath the gentle light of the crescent moon, talking in hushed voices as they strolled along the lantern lit pathway. The garden was different to the courtyard where Aoba had received his punishment, and was designed by a local artist; a winding stone pathway that snaked its way over a small ornate bridge where a miniature river chuckled endlessly to itself, flowing forever with nowhere to go. Even in the cold winter the garden had plenty to offer, the winter flowers blooming just as brightly as the summertime ones. Soon, even they would be covered beneath a thick layer of snow, however, the bitter caress of frosty winds chasing away even the hardiest of flowers.

'Where are you from?' Aoba asked casually.

'Germany.' Noiz said.

'Germany? How far away is that?'

'Many, many days travel. Perhaps days is the wrong word, even.'

'I do not know the world outside these walls,' Aoba sighed, gesturing to the high wall that enclosed them. 'I often wondered if there was anything beyond here.'

'There is plenty to see.' Noiz said. 'But it's a cruel and meaningless place. Maybe you are better off inside here.'

'I have not known anything but this place. I have... vague memories of a time before, but as each year passes I think more and more it is just a dream masquerading as a memory. But it is easy for you to suggest I am better off in here as you know what else there is.'

Noiz's expression tightened. 'You have a point.'

'By tomorrow morning, Noiz-san, you have the choice to walk out the front door. You have the choice to come back. You should remember, whichever option you choose, I will still be here either way.'

Noiz fell silent for a time, contemplating. When at last he opened his mouth, his words surprised Aoba. 'Let me take you with me, then. Tomorrow morning, when I choose to leave, come with me.'

'Noiz-san...'

'You say you do not have a choice. I'm giving you a choice. Come home with me.'

'To... Germany?'

'Yes, to Germany.'

'You cannot be serious.' Aoba stopped walking, turning his body to face Noiz properly. He searched his face with disbelieving eyes. He had heard the words spoken before, many a time, but never so earnestly. From his evening with Noiz he knew when the man was joking and when he was not. This was no joke.

'Why wouldn't I be?'

'My ransom is rather high, Noiz-san. It would be foolish for you to waste that amount of money on me.'

'My father would barely notice. He has recently made a profitable deal here and stands to only increase his fortune. Where I spend my money is up to me, he couldn't care less.'

'And if you bring me home with you? Noiz-san, there is no future for you with a... with a man like me.'

'You could easily be trained to work in my father's company, have your own income, your own money.'

'Can you not enjoy the flowers, Noiz-san? I invited you out to look upon them after all.'

'I don't care much for flowers. You're dodging my proposition.' Noiz retorted.

So honest, Aoba thought. Still he refused to respond to Noiz directly. 'Then why did you accept my invitation?'

'I wanted to be alone with you. Answer me, Aoba.'

Aoba smiled, a sorrowful smile. 'These are conversations best left for afterwards, when you are half asleep and mumbling sweet nothings to me from our pillow.'

'If sex is the only way you are going to listen to me, then fine. Let's go.'

'Just like that?' Aoba said, a flush rising to his cheeks again. Noiz was so forward, his language direct and unyielding, such that it unnerved Aoba. He was far from used to it; dirty talk within the privacy of his bedroom he deemed normal, but out in the open like this was unheard of. 'Fine. Come back to the house with me and I will entertain you privately for the rest of the evening.'

'Does this mean you will consider my offer?'

'...It means I have agreed to my promise from earlier.'

'What promise?' Noiz looked a little dumbfounded.

'The promise that I will "see you later".'

Aoba turned and started to walk briskly back in the direction of the house. Against the dark backdrop of the sky, the illuminated rooms looked warm and inviting, beckoning him back inside. It was about time, too, as the cold air began to bite at his skin. However, beneath the thin layer of his flesh his blood began to heat up as he lead Noiz back the way they had come. He was pleased that Noiz appeared easily distracted by the prospect of sex, dropping the heavy conversation for a more physical exchange.

Though as they walked back, Aoba could not help but wonder what his future would hold if he took Noiz up on his offer. All the men before who promised such things rarely returned, or bankrupted themselves in the process of their frequent visits.

Noiz was clearly different.

Even as the next morning came and Noiz prepared to leave, he held Aoba's hands in his own and squeezed them lightly, turning away with a single line upon his lips.

'I'll be waiting for your reply.'


	6. Chapter 6

As the days since his first and last visit to the Yoshiwara turned into weeks Ren often thought about his precious time there. Koujaku had been absent as usual, quickly finding his way into the arms of another unsuspecting woman, Ren mused. He made it seem so easy, and his reluctance to leave – or even to discuss the woman he had been seeing – told Ren he was completely in love. Koujaku was never afraid to openly discuss his conquests but this time was different. There was a glimmer in his eye as he looked back across the bridge, saying a silent farewell to the bird he left caged within. Ren had since often thought about the woman who held the power to hold a wandering man's heart captive.

Ren's own heart and mind were elsewhere these days as he heaved another lonesome sigh. Seated on a padded cushion, the dumplings he had just eaten radiated warmth from within his belly. It was a satisfying comfort to eat his grandmother's food; the old woman insisted on cooking Ren's meals despite the servant employed to do just that and it frustrated his parents no end. However, they were rarely home these days and so his grandmother, named Tae, ran the household _her _way.

'You've been puffing out air for weeks.' Tae said as she placed her chopsticks down on the table. She wore a worried expression upon her weathered face, the deep wrinkles around her mouth and eyes formed from years of frowning. 'If you don't cease it soon you'll run out of air.'

Ren smiled faintly, politely. 'I apologise. I have a matter of importance on my mind and it does not seem to change, regardless of how many ways I think it over.'

'I see.' Tae said. 'However, I don't believe you, Ren.'

Looking up from his lap Ren met his grandmother's unwavering gaze. She was a small woman but commanded the utmost respect from all around her. She would not stand for misdeeds, and she had more than once been known to smack a would be thief round the back of his head with her bare hands in the middle of the night. Her daughter and Ren's mother, Haruka, was just as steadfast but gentler in her means.

There was no getting past his grandmother, Ren thought with mild exasperation. Yet she spoke truthfully and if Ren was honest with himself he had already made the choice, long ago on that first evening. He was only delaying the inevitable, stretching out the days in a futile attempt to prolong his fate. There was nothing else for it then, Ren thought. He would be going back to the Yoshiwara.

The thought of seeing the mysterious woman in the latticed window made his cheeks heat up, the pulsing heat in his body different to that of what the dumplings gave him. Worried Tae may notice his sudden change, Ren passed the used dishes to the servant and excused himself from the room, quietly making his way into his own room.

As the only heir in the family, the only child, Ren was allocated the largest room. The house itself was impressive in size and boasted of two floors and several well furnished rooms. Tae slept on the ground floor due to her old age and ailing health; her hips were worn and the stairs were too much for her to conquer on a daily basis. The rest of the family – Ren and his parents, Haruka and Nine – slept on the second floor, though it was more often than not that Ren had the entire floor to himself. As if to fill the void they left behind in their absence, whenever his parents did return from their adventures abroad they always brought back with them trinkets, strange objects and curios from faraway lands. The house was unusually cluttered with these things; toys, furniture, even clothes and books in all manner of strange languages that Ren would never hope to understand. The material wealth they had accumulated over the years did little for Ren. He missed his parents deeply, and perhaps the feeling would have been worse if not for Tae's presence in the house. Even with the servants the property was much too big for just them.

Ren's futon was already laid out for him, the thick mat welcoming his wary body as he curled up in its soft embrace, his head resting on the pillow though not with the intention of sleep. His mind, in contrast to his body, was awake and ready to tackle the problem he now faced.

Koujaku.

His long-time friend Koujaku would normally not have permitted Ren leave from his sight, certainly not if his intention was to travel to the Yoshiwara. Ren and Koujaku were always together. Ren followed him everywhere, watching over his promiscuity with eyes like that of a parent, or more accurately, a brother. Ren traced every footstep with his own, as faithful and as loyal to his friend as a dog to his master. It was a bond Ren cherished; the only one he had to speak of beyond his family. Ren's quiet, reserved nature made him appear stand-offish, though polite with his words he never made friends easily. Koujaku's persistent, dogged personality was not deterred, and a friendship bloomed between them from many years before, when they met as young children.

It was a strong bond, thicker than blood, that made it all the more impossible for Ren's change in behaviour to pass unnoticed. The very fact Ren intended a trip to the pleasure quarters would send Koujaku into a flurry of questions that honestly, Ren did not want to answer. He did not know what the answers were to those questions, not yet. He may never know them all, either. All he knew was he had to see her again, whatever it took.

Ren had decided.

On the next morning, he would travel to the Yoshiwara.

But it was a plan easier thought than done.

Ren said his farewells to his grandmother, promising to return to her in a few days. She was not Ren's biggest concern, however, and he was let out of the house with relative ease. He felt guilty, pursuing his own futile pleasures like this. But as the weeks dragged into months he found himself only able to think of her, the flash of blue appearing vividly in his dreams night after sleepless night, until he would deny it no longer.

The town was quiet in the early morning. Ren's horse snorted and scuffed its hooves as he climbed onto its back, pulling on the reins as he steadily guided the chestnut beast out of the gates of his home and onto the dusty street beyond. He was almost to the edge of town when he heard a voice calling frantically behind him. A voice he would rather ignore now, but one he knew he could not. He slowed his horse down and waited without turning as the sound of rushing sandals approached.

'Oi! Ren!'

It was of course Koujaku.

'Good morning, Koujaku.' Ren said, peering down at his friend with a slight agitation. He didn't want the barrage of questions that would surely come his way...

'Where are you off to so early?' Koujaku asked, and looking up he had to shield his eyes from the low winter sun.

'I have some errands to run.' He lied after a brief hesitation. Ren was surprised by how easily the words slipped off his tongue. He had never lied before.

'Some errands? Tae-san in need of some things?'

Ren nodded, afraid to indulge his own fabrication further. It made him a little uncomfortable.

'What kind of things would Tae-san need that requires you to wear travelling clothes?'

'Koujaku...' Ren said, desperately trying to think of an excuse. 'She... needs some items that can only be obtained in Edo.' As soon as Ren said it, he regretted it.

'You think I'm born yesterday, don't you?' Koujaku said. His words were a little rough, but when Ren looked to him again he could clearly see a mischievous smile on Koujaku's face. 'You're going to the Yoshiwara.'

'That is...' Ren began, but the words would not come. He looked away, straight ahead, anywhere else but at his friend. 'That is not true. I have no purpose to go there alone.'

'You liar.' Koujaku retorted with a grin.

Ren swallowed the awkward lump in his throat. 'I do not know what you mean.'

'I see, I see. Something caught your attention, did it?'

'Nothing has caught my attention, Koujaku.' Ren gripped the reins for comfort.

'What does Tae-san need, then? I don't recall Edo having anything in particular that Tae-san would want so urgently.'

'Koujaku... please.'

Even without looking at him, Ren could feel the beaming smile brighter than the sun on Koujaku's face. If that was not enough, his amusement at Ren's turmoil was clearly displayed in his voice.

'You're going alone? Should you not be accompanied? There's bad people on the roads, especially in these cold months.'

'I will be perfectly safe, thank you. I remember the way.'

'So you are going to the Yoshiwara, then?'

Ren silently cursed at himself. He should not have said that.

The game was up. There was little use hiding his intentions now.

'No, no. It's fine. I understand. I would hurry and go with you but I'm stuck in the area for a few days... when are you coming home?' Koujaku pressed.

'I planned to stay three days, no more.'

'Three days, huh?' Koujaku rubbed his chin, still amused by Ren's admission. 'Alright. You must come to me the moment you return. We will drink to your success!'

'… That would require a level of achievement to occur beforehand, Koujaku. We are not all born with a smooth tongue.'

'Ah, you'll do fine. Three days!' Koujaku yelled as he slapped Ren's horse on the rump, and with that Ren escaped out of the town, traversing the journey to ventures unknown, alone.

It was an uneventful ride, for the most part.

The road was wide open and clear, passing through a forest just over midway. Unable to find another way around it and aware of the ever passing of time, Ren was left with no choice but to go through it. With each moment gone the roads grew more and more dangerous, especially for a nobleman. Though the plain brown clothes he wore disguised the fancier robes beneath, the very fact he wore travelling clothes indicated he was of higher birth.

When he was almost to the other side of the forest Ren noticed a woman sitting on a rock, nursing a bundle in her arms. She looked up as she heard the horse approaching and instinctively Ren slowed his pace. As he grew closer to her he noticed the dirt upon her clothes and face, the guarded but not unkind smile that crossed her lips.

'Please, kind sir! Spare a moment for a young woman?' The lady called out as Ren approached. Slowing his horse down to a halt, he addressed her.

'Are you in need of help?'

'We have no money for food...' The woman's voice trailed off and she glanced to the bundle in her arm.

'...I shall see what I can do.' Ren replied.

'Thank you!' The woman's muddied face lit up and Ren felt a pang of sympathy for her unfortunate position. Reaching into his travellers over clothes he pulled a small cloth pouch and reached into it. As he was about to drop the coins into the grateful woman's hand, he felt his world turn upside down. Before Ren could comprehend what was happening he felt the hardness of the ground beneath him as he was pulled from his horse.

His vision momentarily blurred as the force of the impact rang throughout his body as he hit the ground with a sickening thud.

'What...?' His voice cut off as in a flash the woman pulled from the bundle in her arms not a child, but a knife, dropping the rest of the cloth carelessly to the ground. The sharp, silver blade kissed the skin of Ren's neck, cold and hard against his quivering throat.

'Got him.' She said over her shoulder, and in a moment a group of men surrounded Ren, appearing from behind the bushes that lined the road.

Under his breath Ren cursed himself for being so foolish as to enter the forest. His instincts told him to avoid it, but his desire to reach the Yoshiwara had led him through it.

'Your coin pouch.' One of the men said gruffly.

'I do not have much with me,' Ren suppressed the fear in his voice, hardening his face as he stared defiantly up at the female assailant, 'Just a few coins.' He was buying time in the vain hope someone else may pass by and offer assistance. It was a foolish notion, he knew that, but he still had to try.

His other option was to kick the girl's feet out from beneath her, with a swift swing of his leg he would surely not miss his target. But the other four or five men ensured he would not make it out alive afterwards. Yet if he merely handed over his coin pouch there was every possibility they would slit his throat regardless. He had to think carefully about this.

'Just give it up.' The girl said, pressing the tip of her knife closer to Ren's throat. He could feel the blade pierce his skin and a sharp pain broke over him.

Without a further word Ren fumbled for his coins, finding the light cloth bag and holding it out. His hand was shaking now, the adrenaline pumping fiercely in his veins. He should have listened to Koujaku, he should have taken companions with him. Even with his travelling clothes it was obvious he was of higher birth than most, and it clearly made him an easy target. He was too naïve, to eager to help a stranger, and it was a lesson bitterly learned the hard way.

The knife still pressed to his throat, the woman snatched the pouch and backed away, feeling the amount with her fingers.

'It's a good haul.' She said casually, stepping back from Ren. He lay perfectly still on the ground, propped up on his elbows. His horse remained unaffected, standing a few paces away and grazing on some grass as though nothing was occurring. 'Leave him with that.'

'Are you sure you want to leave him? Kill him, and throw his body in the ditches.'

With those words Ren shuddered. His fingers dug into the cold ground beneath him and he clenched his teeth, staring defiantly up at the woman with knife. He prepared himself for the worst.

'He's not honestly worth our trouble.' The woman quipped. She was stern faced, thin lipped and not at all the helpless mother Ren made the mistake of thinking she was. Regret pooled like acid in his stomach, rising up to choke the air from his lungs.

'Alright.' One of the men said.

As quickly as they came they disappeared into the surrounding area, no doubt lurking in the bushes for their next victim. Ren was not about to hang around and tempt his fate, the relief of still being alive – and with all his limbs intact – washing over him. As he tried to stand his knees buckled beneath him and he fell to the ground again, the sudden realisation and fear of what had happened weighing him down. Never again would he be so daring as to travel alone. Never, he swore, for next time he may not get off so lightly.

Though they seized Ren's money, there was little choice for him but to carry on to the Yoshiwara.

_I must send word to Koujaku_, he thought. It was too far to turn back home now and he doubted his horse would make the return journey; the temperature of the encroaching winter night was already ripping through his clothes and beneath the cover of darkness the rest of the miscreants would surely seize whatever was left of him. Ren quickly calculated all of this as he stumbled to his feet, grabbing the reins for his horse and shakily climbed back onto the saddle. With no money in his pocket his dream of seeing the azure haired beauty vanished and it was with a heavy heart he dug his heels into the horse's flank, spurning the beast into action as he made the final lengths of his journey, albeit with a new-found purpose.


	7. Chapter 7

'Aoba's up early!'

'Impossible. Are you sure that was Aoba?'

'Oh, be quiet! Is it really so unusual for me to be up early?' Aoba retorted with a scowl as he opened his bedroom door and walked down the hallway. The other boys were already loitering outside their own rooms, some half-dressed and some holding the bowls of rice that was their breakfast. The hour was not early at all for most people, but to the young men of the Moon Flower the day did not start until the early afternoon. They slept while the world began to wake, they worked as the world began to sleep. They were at odds with reality, suspended in their own world like a floating cloud.

'But Aoba, you're not normally awake for another two or three hours.'

'Leave me alone!' Aoba huffed, shrugging off their comments as he padded down the hallway. The lack of sleep from the night before was making him crankier than usual, and his sharp responses only fuelled his so called comrade's words against him.

'Didn't get enough beauty sleep?' They teased.

Their futile lip flapping did little to dampen Aoba's spirits, he would not allow it to. He woke to the day with a feeling of superiority, a dangerous emotion in such tight living quarters. He carried his head a little higher as he made his way down the hallway, a bounce lifting him forward with each step and a wry smile conquering his lips. He couldn't help himself; the night he spent with Noiz was like no other. He enjoyed the banter, the change of pace to his usual flattery. For the first time Aoba was speaking the most freely he ever had, though still mindful of causing offence, of course. More than that, though, was Noiz's promise of paying the ransom. It was a promise Aoba learned to ignore, all the customers who quickly became infatuated with him had all said the same words to him at some point or another. But Noiz's was different. Aoba could _feel_ it. There was something earnest in his expression as he squeezed Aoba's hands before leaving. They were not the words of a man suffering with infatuation, nor the words of a man suffering with the madness of love.

They were the words of a man with pure intentions. He simply wanted to help Aoba out of a bad situation, of that he was certain.

And that's what made his promise so fatal.

'What is all the commotion? …Aoba?' Sei suddenly appeared, his eyes heavy with sleep and still dressed in his nightgown.

'Ah – Sei, I'm sorry...' Aoba bowed apologetically as he came to a stop outside his brother's room.

'What's the matter?' Sei said as he rubbed his tired eyes with a yawn.

'The others have so little going on in their lives that they have to marvel at mine.' Aoba spat over his shoulder bitterly, not caring if they actually heard him or not.

'It is rather peculiar for you to be awake at this hour. Come, sit with me a moment.' Sei stepped back and beckoned Aoba inside. Closing the door after them, Sei sat himself back down on his futon and patted the space next to him. 'Like old times.' Sei said with a smile.

'I've been so busy lately, I've had no time to spend with you.' Aoba said, curling his feet beneath him. 'Toue has me working every single customer imaginable.'

'You say his name so harshly.'

'Why wouldn't I?'

'Toue-sama has taken you under his wing, Aoba. He has tended to you much like a gardener and a flower; he planted you as a seed, has watered and fed you and watched you grow, nurtured you until you blossomed into the successful Oiran you are today. He has withstood your tantrums, your misdeeds, suffered the financial loss of your actions, too...'

'Alright, alright. It's impossible arguing with you over Toue.' Aoba laughed at his brother's unyielding loyalty to the master of the house. Though what he said was true, Aoba still resented Toue. Unlike Sei, Aoba could not see the positive side to him.

'So, why is Aoba up so early anyway?'

'Not you too!' Aoba whined.

'Yes, me too.' Sei chuckled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with mirth.

'I'm expecting some good news. I was actually... on my way to see Toue.'

'He should be in his office at this time.'

'Thank you, Sei.' Aoba leaned forward and planted a kiss on his brother's cheek. 'I would be lost without you.'

'Do not rely on me too much,' Sei said, the light fading from his eyes, 'I will always be there for you, Aoba, never forget that. Though I may not always be there in person, I'll always be _here._' As Sei spoke he pressed his palm to Aoba's chest. 'If you ever need me, look to me there.'

'Sei...' Aoba furrowed his brows, covering his palm with his own. 'You're not going to leave, are you?'

'My contract is almost over, my debt almost repaid. Toue-sama is unlikely to want to keep an ageing Oiran such as myself.'

'Sei!'

'It is true, Aoba. My clients are diminishing rapidly and I'm no longer making the money I used to.' Sei's expression was sorrowful and it pained Aoba to see him this way. He squeezed Sei's hand tightly, and spoke with determination.

'If Sei goes – I go!'

'Oh, Aoba.' Sei sighed despite the smile he tried to show. 'Thank you. I'm sorry, I did not mean to burden your morning with my lamentations. You should go see Toue-sama right now, before he leaves for the afternoon on business.'

'Yes!' Aoba scurried to his feet, remembering the reason for his early start. 'We'll talk more later!'

Not stopping to think of why Sei knew so much of Toue's plans, Aoba resumed his semi-jog down the myriad of hallways until he arrived at Toue's office. The door looked slightly out of place against the traditional Japanese backdrop, the thick wooden structure a prelude to the décor beyond. Aoba didn't much care for Western influences and without further concern raised his hand and knocked his knuckles on the door.

'Come in.'

Once summoned, Aoba awkwardly turned the handle of the door and entered the room. The familiar, overwhelming scent of mint invaded his senses as he stepped bowing into the room. 'Please excuse the intrusion.' Aoba murmured politely as the door closed behind him. He could not shake of the feeling he was somehow trapped in the Lion's den.

Beneath his feet was a magnificently woven rug, the intricate swirls of gold played over a field of majestic green. Aoba had forgotten how many times over the years his eyes traced the same patterns over and over again, coming to the same dead ends and never finding the way through the intertwining pattern.

'What is it, Aoba-kun?' Toue asked. He did not look up from the papers stacked neatly on the oak desk in front of him, one of which his brush quickly wrote across – no doubt signing off another helpless boy's life into his clutches.

'I'm sorry to be bothering you.' Aoba began, finding his mouth drying up faster than Edo in the height of summer, 'There was something I wanted to ask.'

'And what would that be?'

'Have... Have you...' Aoba stiffened his shoulders and stood a little taller. This was his chance, he needed to face it with clear determination. With that in mind he started again, clearing his throat and speaking a little more solidly. 'Have you received an offer for my ransom?'

For a moment Toue continued writing, but then he placed the brush down carefully and crossed his fingers on the desk in front of him. He tilted his head down so he peered over the top of the small glasses, perched on the edge of his nose. He stared at Aoba with his cold and calculating eyes, the eyes of a snake, Aoba thought as he stared back defiantly. He would not give into that cold stare, not with his future on the line.

Taking a deep breath, Toue casually flicked through the papers on his desk, a disinterested look settling over his ageing features. 'An offer for your ransom, you say?'

'Yes.'

'You seem very certain of this offer, Aoba-kun. Is there something I should know? Surely you get promised this kind of thing everyday.'

'I do, get promised it a lot, that is.' Aoba stuttered. His heart was thundering in his chest and he feared speaking too much in one go lest it climb from his chest and fall out of his flapping lips.

'Then what makes this particular proposal so different?'

'N-nothing.' Aoba hung his head, feeling suddenly foolish. 'Please, Toue-sama. If you have received word, tell me.'

'Let me see. Something did arrive this morning...' Toue crossed his brows as he searched the papers and envelopes that were neatly stacked to one side.

Aoba's eyes were wide with child-like wonder as he watched, his hands clenching into sweaty fists at his sides as the anticipation swirled in his belly like a thousand fluttering butterflies. With each passing moment Aoba could see his certain future here become murky and faraway, blurring like a hand causing a perfect reflection to ripple into obscurity. It was the most exciting thing he had felt in all his endless years and as Toue proudly held up a letter in a pristine white envelope, Aoba suddenly felt everything fall into place.

'Aoba...' Toue said, squinting at the characters written on the front.

'Is it... is it there?' Aoba's feet moved on their own, taking him a step further across the imported rug. This was... really going to happen, Aoba thought with a slight hint of fear.

Toue slowly opened the envelope and pulled the letter out from within, his small eyes darting quickly over the contents. 'From Noiz-san, correct?' Toue asked, a small smile forming on his thinning lips.

'Yes!' Aoba almost leapt the short distance across the desk to sit on Toue's lap. Almost.

There was a pause before Toue next spoke, and he carefully folded the letter back up, his interest in it waning.

'Oh, it appears this letter is not for you after all, Aoba-kun. It's for Aoi. What a shame that is.' Toue's voice was full of sympathy, something Aoba did not think the man capable of.

'...What?' Aoba's voice was small and full of disbelief. 'But..there must be some kind of mistake?'

'I misread the writing. I apologise, but there is nothing for you here.'

Aoba's face grew pale and he felt as though the strength in his body had been drained, his legs weakening beneath him as he stood feebly in the centre of the room. 'He... he promised...'

'Aoba-kun,' Toue placed the letter back down and sat back in the chair leisurely. 'Surely by now you understand how fickle customers can be? You did not honestly expect a young gentlemen such as Noiz-san, whose pockets are now lined with wealth beyond your simple understanding, to spare a thought for you?'

'I...'

'Now, now. Don't look so disheartened! You're young and beautiful and your popularity here makes me very pleased.' Slipping out from behind the desk Toue came to stand before Aoba, his wrinkled hand cupping the soft skin of Aoba's chin and raising his crestfallen face to look up. Aoba could taste the tobacco on the man's breath as he spoke. 'There's a good boy. Now you run along back to your room and get some more sleep before your customers arrive. I have one customer on the books for you at seven, but he only wants you for an hour. After that is up to you.'

'Understood.' Aoba bowed low as Toue released him and stepped back, 'Thank you for your time.'

Aoba closed the door behind him, not hearing the cruel taunt that Toue released after him.

'You belong _here_, Aoba. You belong to _me_. And I will never let you leave.' As though to emphasis his point, the letter that had been in Toue's hands he now ripped vehemently into shreds, tossing the fragments aside.

The walk back to his room seemed to last for an eternity. The corridors stretched out before him as though taunting him, reminding him of his own captivity. _You will never escape_ they sneered at him, and so too did the faces of the other boys, their powdered faces and crimson lips silently laughing at Aoba's misery. He despised them all, he realised as he brushed passed them. He hated everything; the walls that kept him here, the people around him, the entire façade of pleasure and happiness that they all worked so hard to build for their customers. When was it _his _turn to feel those things, to be loved and cherished by another if only for a moment?

Lowering his head Aoba broke into a run, his legs propelling him with agile speed down the hallway, the thoughts that plagued him chasing him as he fled. He felt like a fly caught in a web, and the more he struggled against his fate the tighter the spider's silk wrapped him up. He couldn't care about it any longer, he thought as he slid his bedroom door closed behind him. No one was going to change the situation for him, he realised, he was the only one capable now of altering the path he was on. His dependency upon Noiz weighed heavily on his heart. He didn't notice how much he was relying on a stranger's kindness to deliver him from his situation, and it had been his undoing. It was his own fault, Aoba knew it, and no one else's. He was the one who willingly allowed himself to dream so fervently of a reality that was never going to be his. Not so easily, anyway. He was foolish to think so highly of himself that Noiz would actually want to spend that much money on nothing more than a dressed up whore. He deserved better, so much better, and Aoba was just a low-life. A man with no control over his life was a man not worth knowing.

His frustration fuelling him Aoba reached for the small lacquer box that housed the few items he owned, given to him over the years by his loyal customers. He grabbed hairpins and brooches, jewels of jade and mother of pearl and other precious stones, and piled them onto a cloth bundle. He changed his clothes to a basic everyday kimono, and left his face bare of make-up. His hair he let down and it cascaded over his shoulders, settling at his waist. He rarely saw it down like this; the style he was forced to wear took hours of painstaking treatment to sculpt and as a result it was rarely allowed to be let down. His head felt lighter somehow, freed itself of its own servitude. Now it was Aoba's turn to release himself from the mould he had been cast into.

Stuffing the trinkets into his sleeve he knew what he must do.

No one else was going to do it for him, and he was not content to wait another fifteen years in the hope that they would. He already wasted so much time, letting the ebb and flow of life erode away at him, he could not stand to allow himself to become weathered into nothingness. He had seen it happen to the older boys; a day came when they could no longer haul their bodies out of their futons, a day came when the make-up on their faces could no longer hide the emotional scars of their service. It was frightening to watch them age so quickly, and Aoba was damned if he was going to lay down and take another night of pleasuring others.

It was going to be his turn.

His skin prickled with the adrenaline that flowed beneath it, his emotions stirred up like the ocean in the midst of a storm. He felt himself a ship tossed about on those waters, not knowing upon which shore he would land – if any. His actions tonight could possibly land him wrecked upon the rocks, or simply lost to the world. Either way he didn't stop to think about it as he sneaked out from his room. As quietly as he could Aoba slid back the door, peeking out from within to survey the hallway. It was surprisingly – and thankfully – empty. The chattering boys that loitered here were busy, no doubt flaunting their charms in the window or seeing to their pre-booked customers. Their shrill voices could be heard from downstairs, and Aoba scrunched his nose up as he began to creep down the hallway. They sounded so vile to him, their shrieks of unrefined laughter and dry conversation echoing in his ears almost accusingly as he made his way down the stairs. It was a quick run from here into the garden, but just as Aoba was about to make the dash he heard a familiar voice seeping through the door of Toue's office. His heart twinged in his chest at his own betrayal, but he could not stop now. Not even for Sei.

'…I must get ready.' Aoba heard Sei's voice, followed by the low rumble of Toue's, whose words he could not decipher. There was a light chuckle from Sei, 'Toue, please. If I do not get ready soon I will be late...' Sei's voice grew clearer, and Aoba realised with a sudden shock of fear he was by the door. If he delayed any longer, he would be caught – not only eavesdropping, but trying to escape. The punishment for both was too severe to contemplate, and Aoba used the rush that flooded him to dart into the garden.

From here he briskly walked to the back, using the early evening haze to cover him.

The walls were too high for him to scale alone, but he could try and climb one of the trees that grew beside the wall. It was many years ago that Aoba last climbed a tree, but as he bent his knees and outstretched his arms above him, latching onto one of the lower branches, he soon discovered the art had not left him. The branch was sturdy enough and took his weight as his sandalled foot sought purchase on the trunk, and eventually finding it, he scrambled up into the branches. As he made a leap for the wall the hem of his light blue kimono snagged on a twig, tearing. He couldn't stop to dwell on it, however, glancing back to see the tatter of cloth blowing like a lone leaf in the wind.

Aoba could feel the rush of excitement and fear as he lowered himself over the wall, his hands clinging to it as his legs dangled helplessly beneath him. The drop was further than at first he thought, and now he was afraid to let go. He cursed himself for being so weak, but still his sweating palms would not release the wall. Having come this far it was useless to give up now. Summoning the courage of his earlier conviction Aoba set his mind straight and, before his anxiety could catch up to him, he released himself from the wall. His body fell through the air and it took all his strength not to cry out as he anticipated the the pain that was surely going to follow his recklessness.

His landing, however, was surprisingly soft, and left Aoba more than confused.

'...Do you make a habit of climbing over walls and falling on unsuspecting passers by?'

'Excuse me...?' Aoba blinked, startled. Looking up he saw the reason for his soft landing. He was cradled in the arms of a man, who looked back at him with a stoic expression. His voice was surprisingly deep for such a soft looking face. 'I'm so sorry!' Aoba scrambled to apologise.

'You are lucky I caught you. You may have broken something if not.'

'I am very sorry – thank you, though! I am grateful.' Aoba's cheeks felt hot with embarrassment and guilt. He was seen escaping, and the realisation made him feel more than a little foolish. But the man who held him made no move to reprimand or even hand him in. Instead he seemed content to just look at him, his golden gaze gentle and kind. 'Uhm... You can put me down now, Sir.' Aoba said eventually, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. The man made no move to release Aoba until that moment, but once prompted he quickly and dutifully placed Aoba onto his feet.

'Thank you.' Aoba murmured.

'You are welcome. Perhaps you could assist me with a small request in return.'

Aoba looked up to him, suspicion dancing in his eyes. He did not expect to be propositioned for sex so soon after leaving his old life behind, but it was a sure fire way for him to fill his pockets with much needed money. After a brief hesitation, Aoba resigned himself to agree.

'Alright. Follow me; there is an inn on the other side of town. We can talk there.'

'Understood.' The man replied flatly, allowing Aoba to take his hand and pull him along at a brisk pace.

'What's your name?' Aoba asked over his shoulder, figuring it would be easier to get the introductions out of the way now. The man behind him kept his pace easily enough, his long legs c

arry him without effort. He was young, younger than most Aoba had dealt with in his past. He knew of one, perhaps two customers that frequented him that were of the same age. Remembering them, Aoba felt a twinge of sorrow.

'...Ren. May I ask yours?'

'I'm Aoba. It's nice to meet you, Ren.'

'The pleasure is all mine.'


	8. Chapter 8

Aoba chose the inn from the slightly less reputable area, knowing the owner would be easier to bribe in order to keep their stay a secret. Aoba's face was well known and not to mention his unusual hair meant hiding for long was impossible; the owner would be bribed for a day or two or at least until Toue came looking for Aoba, and the penalty for being caught housing him would not outweigh the offer of the reward that would surely come.

Aoba had to think fast, piecing together the plan in his mind as he went, which lead him to the situation he was currently in.

_I don't have much with me,_ Aoba thought as he slipped behind the screen to touch up his appearance using the small mirror supplied in the room. It was a small space with nothing more to offer than the decorative screen depicting a crane in flight and the majestic Mount Fuji shrouded in an early morning mist, the small mirror, the double futon and a low table with a lamp. On the wall was a single scroll with an ancient proverb written in surprisingly beautiful calligraphy. Having never been taught to read, however, Aoba didn't have the faintest idea as to what wisdom it bestowed. Besides those things there was no other furniture, but for the money they would pay tomorrow morning Aoba could not complain. What distressed him more was the lack of finery he had to offer Ren. The few pins and jewels he took with him he slipped into his hair, styling it on his own as best he could and pinning it into place. The silky locks slipped through his fingers and refused to stay, kissing the curve of his shoulders with a ticklish touch as he moved his head. No make-up to hide away his face he scowled at his appearance. There was nothing he could do about it, his face as it was would have to suffice, backed up with some acting to make up for what he lacked. Whatever happened he had to succeed in his seduction of Ren. To bring the hapless gentleman to the peak of ecstasy and seize him there, leaving him caught between the sweet embrace of pleasure and teetering at the fragile moment before it's release. Once there Aoba would have him promise on his honour to take Aoba out of the Yoshiwara and to a safe place. It was a huge risk to them both but men were weak to their bodies.

'I'm sorry.' Aoba said as he stood up, finally accepting the way he looked. 'I would not normally offer myself in this state to a customer – and one such as handsome as yourself – but I have not got my things with me...' Behaving shyly, Aoba stepped out from behind the screen. His kimono he tied loosely so the fabric slipped easily from his shoulder, giving the overall appearance of a dishevelled lover. The effect seemed to work perfectly, he mused, seeing the flustered look appear on Ren's face.

'I-I...' Ren had been about to drink from the cup of warmed sake on the tray, yet the sight of Aoba made the cup tremble in his fingers and Aoba watched with masked amusement as he quickly placed the cup down. Clearing his throat Ren began again what he wanted to say. 'Aoba-san, I do not fully understand why you rented the room. You see, I-'

'Shh.' Aoba carefully cut him off, swaying his hips from side to side in a mesmerising display as he approached the futon, approached the lightly shaking Ren. In one smooth glide Aoba was on his hands and knees, crawling across the short distance between them and letting his kimono fall ever so slightly further from his shoulders. 'Don't be afraid. If you've not done this before I can take the lead until you are ready to take over.' Aoba's voice switched from the light, shy quiver to a sultry, low drawl.

'Aoba-san you don't understand-'

'I understand perfectly, Ren-san.' Aoba smiled coyly. His body, crouched low to the ground like a cat preparing for the pounce, continued it's predatory pursuit over Ren, who had been relaxing alone on the futon, legs slightly outstretched and leaning back on one arm. His entire body was rigid, Aoba could tell as he brought his face a few tantalising inches from Ren's, their breathes now shared if his a little shallow and faltering.

'No, really...I just wanted-'

'I know what you want, Ren-san. Please do not be afraid.' Aoba's smile remained as he lowered his gaze, fixating it on Ren's crotch without shame. 'I know exactly what you were asking for.' Aoba moved himself so he draped across Ren's lap, his hands resting lightly on each of Ren's shoulders, feeling the lightly toned muscle beneath the layers of fabric. He was very handsome, Aoba thought, and the shame of using him in this way weighed on his mind heavily. Ren's eyes were honest, his brows furrowed with confusion and the tips of his cheeks blushing in the flickering candlelight, and he had yet to lay a hand on Aoba. Even though Aoba's thighs were wrapped around his hips, his clothes falling away from him like melting ice, Ren's hands did not move.

'Please,' Ren begged, 'Listen to me a moment. I only meant to ask you to help me deliver a message.'

'I got the message.' Aoba cooed, stroking Ren's smooth face. 'It's alright. Many men come to me for this. I do not blame you for seizing an opportunity.' _The same as I am_, Aoba added in thought, easing his conscience. Under normal circumstances, he told himself, he would not take advantage of such an honest gentleman. But these were desperate times and Aoba had to escape, and if that meant using Ren in the process so be it. It was a game of survival, each fighting for their own right to live. If Aoba let this golden opportunity slip away from him his life would never change – and he would only have himself to blame. Ren was getting a good deal out of it as well, paying only the cost of the room to spend an entire night lost to the pleasures of the flesh, with none other than one of the Yoshiwara's most prized oirans. The only downfall would come if they were caught, and that was up to Ren to ensure they weren't. Aoba's payment into the bargain was upfront, he was offering himself to Ren in advance in exchange for the secure promise of a better future. When Aoba was safely delivered to the village in which Ren hailed from, Aoba would simply make his own life there. He planned never to contact Ren further, unless of course he wanted regular favours. For a price.

'Aoba-san please I am begging for you to... stop this for a moment and let me speak.' Ren's words were hurried and clearly he was feeling something, yet he was not giving in to Aoba's charms. Perhaps this was a game?

'You can talk to me if you want to.' Aoba said, squeezing Ren's hips tightly between his thighs.

'Thank you,' Ren sighed the words, 'I meant to ask you to help me send a message to my friend. I was robbed on my way here and-'

'Oh! I see. You poor thing. Let me help you forget the trauma.' Aoba replied. So Ren was into some form of roleplay? He liked to be a victim? Aoba could work with that. 'I'll make it all go away.'

'I have no money.'

'...I'm sorry?' Aoba stopped, his fingers partially hidden beneath the hem of Ren's kimono. He was in the process of pulling the garment open when Ren's words froze his fingers in place.

'I was trying to tell you this sooner but you... did not listen to me. I was robbed, all my money stolen.' Ren's expression was mixed. His eyebrows furrowed, knotting together as the memory plagued him. Yet Aoba could see something else lingering behind it, something that laid over his cheeks with a pinkish hue and made his eyes shift nervously about the room – anywhere but at Aoba.

'Stolen!?' Aoba exclaimed, caught on the single word and the implications that came with it, forgetting his seduction in an instant.

'Indeed. I was lucky to have escaped with my life.'

'Yet you still came here without a coin to your name. Tell me then how did you expected to pay for my services?'

'...I did not realise I had solicited you. I apologise, it has been a most unfortunate misunderstanding.' Ren spoke quietly, hesitation upon his lips before the words tumbled out after it, hurrying as if to fill the gap.

Aoba watched as his plan drained away from being a reality and back into a dream, a fantasy. As it went the foolishness of Aoba's position dawned on him and he realised he was still pressed firmly against Ren's toned body, his thighs still gripping his slender hips in a vice-like grip. He looked down at their closeness, at his kimono that had fallen away to reveal his collarbone and the flat, smooth surface of his skin. He was exposed, vulnerable, and extremely embarrassed.

'...I'm sorry!' He whispered, looking impishly up at Ren, and instantly regretting it. As their eyes met the colour rose to both their cheeks, a burning heat that made them both squirm to look away again. Aoba was caught between the sensation of his utter failure and his humiliation as he carefully peeled himself off Ren's body, minimising further contact until he was safely on the futon beside him. Once he was away from Ren's personal space he slowly fixed his clothes, hanging his head and pretending he was left alone to mull over his thoughts.

Spying the discarded cup of sake he made an unceremonious grab for it, throwing the contents down his throat and following up with a second.

To have lost before he even tried left a bitter taste in his mouth alongside the alcohol. To finish off his mood the embarrassment of his actions settled over him as well, and his shoulders sank even further.

'I-I'm sorry.' Blushing furiously, Aoba poured himself another cup of sake, wishing the futon upon which he sat would somehow swallow him up. His empty belly churned as the alcohol hit it, fusing into his bloodstream without delay. It made him a little light-headed.

'It is just a misunderstanding and cannot be helped.' Ren offered, breaking the silence that fell between them and reminding Aoba of his present predicament.

'What did you want me for, then?'He snapped.

'My intention was to send a message. However I realise now that was a foolish plan and think after tonight I shall simply return home.' As Ren spoke, he too seemed to lose the faint sparkle of hope in his eyes. Aoba understood, the despair of defeat all too hard to shake off.

'If you have no money, though,' Aoba said as he drained another cup of the toxic liquid into his mouth, 'who is paying for the room?'

'That is a good question.' Ren replied with obvious concern. 'I have no items to trade.'

_I have my precious few pins, but I do not wish to use them just yet. At least not until I am beyond the gate._

'Ren-san, why did you come to the Yoshiwara?'

Ren visibly stiffened, his eyes fleeing to stare instead at the floor. '...For the same reason as any man. Though I am not proud to admit it, I came to see a most beautiful creature.'

They really were all the same, Aoba mused as he ran his thumb over the rim of his empty cup thoughtfully. Men were so easily lead by their loins it wasn't even funny, though Ren behaved impeccably, Aoba reasoned. Even with one of the best in the district writhing around on his lap the man's hands never left his sides. It was as though they were nailed to the ground, not so much as twitching to touch Aoba. Maybe... maybe men just weren't his thing?

But then why would he be waiting around outside the Moon Flower if such were the case?

It made no sense and the train of thought served only to frustrate Aoba more.

Through his slightly intoxicated mind he knew he needed a new plan. The fight was not completely gone from him. What could he do?

For one, he knew Ren's weakness. Same as any man he too was weak to a pretty face. A pretty face he had been mugged to see again – he risked his life to come to the Yoshiwara and see her, what else was Ren prepared to do?

'I'll strike a deal with you.' Aoba said abruptly.

When one door closes, another surely opens, right?

Rather than wallowing in self-pity over his first failed attempt, Aoba merely needed to forge a _new_ plan. 'If you take me with you, to your home town, I will ensure you are permitted entry back into the Yoshiwara. If you refuse, however, and abandon me here or along the way, I will promise to have you turned away from every pleasure district in all Japan.'

'Aoba-san, I-'

'Please, Ren-san. I implore you.' Aoba turned his expression to a softer one, pleading instead of demanding. He placed his cup down and swiftly moved his body until he bowed, his forehead kissing the hard tatami beneath it. 'Run away with me this night so you may see the one who possesses your heart another!'


End file.
